Calamity
by LW107
Summary: When Derek is involved in an accident, Meredith can’t help but think how tragedy always puts things into perspective.  All characters included, midseason four.   MerDer, McStizzie, O’Callie, different friendships, LexieMer relationship, etc.
1. Chapter 1

**I just need a mini-break from Winding Road. I'm thinking that writing something new will re-motivate me.**

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It felt like something was crushing her lungs, like she was suffocating because all the oxygen had been depleted from the atmosphere. Her throat burned, her eyes wide with shock as she watched the gurney being pulled out of the ambulance. All semblance of professionalism left her with the slumping of her shoulders, a muted whimper flying across her lips.

She swallowed through the thick swell of bile rising to her esophagus, trying to find her voice as the gurney was wheeled across the ambulance bay. "What . . . what happened?"

Her strangled whisper caused Bailey's eyes to rise with concern, her face sympathetic as she paused in front of the emergency room doors. "Motorcycle accident."

She shook her head fervently. _"No, that's not right! He doesn't ride motorcycles anymore! See that scar on his head? That's why! He doesn't ride them anymore, I swear! This is all a mistake!" _But no one looked at her as they continued to wheel Derek's gurney into the building, and Meredith suddenly realized that she hadn't even uttered the words, that they remained lodged in her throat, trapped under the weight of her fear.

Her feet felt like lead as she followed them into the ER, numbly pushing through the stampede of interns fighting for the chance to get in on the Head of Neurosurgery's case. She wanted to scream at them for treating him as though he was a prize to be won, to push them out of the way as she blocked the door to trauma room two. _No, you can't get in on his case! You'll kill him! You can't even do a fucking intubation! _

But in the end, it was _she_ who was blocked from entering trauma room two, Bailey's stern stare mixing with concern as she shook her head gently, her hands on her hips as she thwarted Meredith's effort to follow them into the room. "You need to stay in the hall, Grey. We can't use you in here."

Meredith's face fell, her head shaking from side to side. "But what if . . . I just . . . _Dr. Bailey_."

Bailey's face softened, her eyes narrowing with sympathy as she placed her hand on Meredith's arm. "You don't need to be in there, Meredith."

The urge to flee the scene in favor of the nearest bottle of tequila was strong as Meredith watched Bailey disappear through the door of trauma room two. Tears welled in her eyes as she watched Derek's head being tilted back, his jaw being lowered as Bailey inserted a tube into his lungs. She watched helplessly through the window as orders were called out with frantic urgency, Meredith's forehead pressed to the glass as her gaze followed the movements of every doctor on the other side of the door.

The thickness of the wall wasn't enough to mute the yelling of the doctors when Derek's heart monitor began to beep with alarming intensity. Meredith closed her eyes, trying to block out the image of Bailey pumping on Derek's chest, trying to block out the sound of an intern announcing that he was going into V-fib. Suddenly her daddy issues seemed shamefully trivial, her fear of commitment frighteningly unreasonable.

She didn't look up when she felt Mark approach, when she sensed his body next to hers as he pressed his hand against the glass of the window. She could hear his uneven breathing as he watched the defibrillator being brought to the table by Derek's body, his breath hitching in the back of his throat as he watched the nurse charge the machine.

A stifled cry escaped Meredith's throat as three hundred volts of electricity were delivered to Derek's heart, his body convulsing under the force of the current. A tear escaped her eyelid as she felt Mark's hand fall limply across her wrist, his fingers trembling as his eyes searched the scene in front of him. A rush of air filled her lungs when, almost instantaneously, signs of normal sinus rhythm showed up on the heart monitor. She could feel an increase in the trembling of Mark's fingers as he leaned his body against the wall beside the door, the heavy concrete supporting his weight as his shaky knees threatened to give out.

With haunted eyes, he turned to Meredith, his expression wary. "What happened?"

Meredith pretended not to hear the hoarseness of his voice, pretended not to see the tears that hovered just beneath his eyelids. "Motorcycle accident."

Mark swallowed, his eyes roaming back to the room where doctors continued to scramble around. "But he doesn't ride motorcycles anymore."

She felt weak as she shook her head, her stomach taut with fear as she followed Mark's gaze until her vision landed on Derek's motionless body.

XXXXXX

George walked quickly through the hallway of the tunnel, his eyes focused on the labs in his hands as the sound of his footsteps echoed against the concrete walls. He didn't notice the person quickly approaching him until his body collided with hers, the papers escaping his hand and scattering about the floor at his feet.

"Sorry," he mumbled, crouching immediately to the linoleum to gather the file, messily piling it together before straightening back up. For the first time, he looked at the other victim of the collision, his eyes widening when he found Callie's teary stare gazing back at him. He began to fidget, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he stared at the floor. "Callie. I . . . I'm sorry. I didn't see you there. I was-"

"It's fine," she whispered, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She knew she caught him off guard when his shoulders tensed up, his eyes wide as they pulled apart. "I'm just glad that you're okay."

He looked confused, glancing around as though to make sure she was actually speaking to _him_. "Oh. I, uh, didn't run into you that hard. I mean, you know, I probably won't even bruise."

Callie smiled a bit, his endearing nervousness suddenly making her heart ache. "No, that's not what I meant. I was worried about you. I've been looking for you since I heard about the accident." Her hands began twitching nervously at her sides, her gaze carefully avoiding his eyes. "I heard people saying that some guy on the hospital staff was brought into the ER. I was just, well you know. I was nervous because I haven't seen you all day and I started to freak out. But then I found out it was Dr. Shepherd and I felt relieved. And then I felt _guilty_ for feeling relieved because _what_ kind of person feels happy that someone-"

"Callie," he interrupted, his eyes narrowed as her mouth clamped shut. "What're you talking about? Dr. Shepherd was in an accident?"

She stared at him, seemingly surprised that he hadn't heard the news. "Yeah, OR one's being prepped for an emergency craniotomy. I thought, I mean I figured you would have heard by now."

He shook his head, his eyes still wide with surprise. "Wow. Oh my God. So it's, uh, it's serious?"

She nodded, feeling almost guilty for having to tell him the news. "Acute subdural hematoma." He didn't say anything, his jaw merely dropping slightly as he walked to the gurney that was pressed against the wall of the tunnel. She followed him, sitting down beside him as she placed her hand on his arm. "Are you okay?"

He shrugged, his eyes rising to meet her gaze. "Yeah, I just . . . I'm just surprised."

Her fingers comfortingly squeezed his forearm. "You can't really prepare yourself for something like this." When he just nodded in response, she sighed, her gaze turning to her lap. The silence seemed loud in the empty hallway, her feet nervously tapping against the edge of the metal gurney. "I really was worried, you know." She kept her gaze fastened to her lap, but she could feel his eyes rising to stare at her, his gaze intent as he studied her face while she continued to speak. "And maybe I don't have a right to be worried but . . . well I'm still technically your wife. And I love you George. And I hate myself for still loving you because you don't love me. Because you love _her_. But I _am_ your wife. So I was worried."

He swallowed, guilt eating at his chest as a tear fell down her cheek. "Well thanks," he said quietly, using his thumb to swipe away the moist droplet before it could disappear down her face. "Thanks for being worried about me."

She smiled slightly, unable to keep from inclining her head toward his palm. "You're welcome."

George frowned as she pressed her cheek against his hand. "Callie . . ."

Her gaze locked courageously with his, her eyes daring him to look away. "I really do hate myself for loving a man that doesn't love me back."

He shook his head. "It's not that I don't love you, Callie. It's just . . . our marriage . . . it . . ."

"What?"

"It happened too fast. And it happened at the wrong time. And I know that it was my fault; I accept all responsibility, but-"

"Wait, you still love me?" Callie interrupted, her eyes wide with hope. "I mean, you said that, right? Well, you _sort of _said it."

George's eyes searched her face, his throat thick with emotion. He couldn't help but picture Meredith, couldn't help but wonder how she must be feeling as she waited for news about Derek's prognosis. He didn't know what he would do if he had to face the same situation with Callie. If he had to face the same situation with Izzie. "I . . . yeah, I do. Of course I still love you, Callie. You're my wife. Love like that doesn't go away over night. But that doesn't mean that we can make our marriage work."

"But maybe it does. Don't you think we owe it to ourselves to _try_ to make it better? We haven't even _tried_, George. We still love each other; we shouldn't just throw it away."

Around the corner, Izzie cursed as her pager went off. Silencing it, she pushed away from the wall, daringly sparing one last glance at Callie and George before heading toward the pit.

XXXXX

Bailey frowned, reasonably sure that Meredith wasn't listening to her as the younger woman continued to stare off into space. "The hematoma isn't very large, but we need to get in there right away to decompress it. The good news is there're no signs of cerebral contusions, but-" Bailey sighed, stepping forward and placing her hand on Meredith's shoulder. "Meredith? Are you listening to me?"

Turning her eyes to Bailey, Meredith stared at her blankly. "I have a fear of commitment. I couldn't give him what he needed."

Tilting her head to the side, Bailey stared at her sternly, shaking her head. "He loves you, Meredith. He needs whatever you can give him. He needs you to hold it together. He needs you to believe in him."

Afraid her knees were going to buckle beneath the weight of her anxiety, Meredith allowed herself to fall backwards in the seat behind her. "I love him, Dr. Bailey. I know that sometimes he might think that I don't, but I can't . . . I don't think I can live without him again. I can't live without him looking at me the way he does."

"Meredith . . ."

"He doesn't know."

Frowning, Bailey sat in the seat beside her. "He doesn't know what?"

Suppressing a sob, Meredith brought her shaky hands over her eyes, pressing her palms against her lids. "He doesn't know that I want it, too. That I want to marry him and have kids with him and grow old with him. That I want to settle down and die in his arms when I'm a hundred and ten. He doesn't know that, Dr. Bailey."

XXXXX

"Time of death: 5:47"

Izzie sighed, removing the latex gloves from her hands and throwing them in the trash. She pushed passed her intern who was staring wide-eyed at the face of the man mutilated by his own gun, the intern's expression unnaturally pale. "But Dr. Stevens, there has to be something more that we can do."

"There's not."

"But-"

"There's nothing more we can do, Graciella. Sometimes no matter what you do, it isn't enough."

Her heart was heavy as she left the trauma room, walking quickly through the hub of the ER without so much as a sideways glance at her colleagues. She took in a shaky breath, reaching her destination in record time and pushing against the heavy door of the stairwell. She swallowed as the door swung shut behind her, filling her lungs with a therapeutic breath of oxygen as she leaned against the wall.

Her eyes narrowed when her vision landed on the beastly man sitting on the stairs, his body hunched over as he pressed his head against his knees. Izzie thought about turning around, about leaving him to have what was obviously meant to be a private moment, but the sight of his shaking shoulders prevented her from doing so.

She took a step forward, not stopping until she was directly in front of him. "Dr. Sloan? Are you . . . are you okay?"

He sighed, rubbing his cheeks against his knees in a way that left dark, moist stains on the pants of his navy scrubs. Izzie swallowed, looking away to give him a moment to compose himself.

Clearing his throat, Mark finally met her gaze. "Is there something you need, Stevens?"

She frowned, trying not to be put off by the gruffness of his voice. "No. I just . . . I just wanted to make sure that you don't need anything. I heard about Dr. Shepherd and-"

"Give it a rest, Stevens." He stood up, suddenly towering over her with a scowl on his face. "I don't need you hovering over me like I'm one of your little charity cases. I'm fine."

Pursing her lips together, Izzie nodded. "Okay, I'm sorry. But if you need someone to talk to, I can listen. You know, if you want. I mean, I understand what it's like to worry about losing your best friend and I-"

A bitter laugh escaped Mark's lips, his eyes angry as he stared down at her. "Don't compare the possible consequences of you fucking George O'Malley to the possible consequences of Derek's head slamming into the concrete."

Izzie winced, tears filling her eyes. With a soft nod of her head, she turned around and left the stairwell.

XXXXX

Cristina's back was pressed against the wall as she sat next to Meredith in the hallway of the surgical floor. She couldn't help but notice how eerily quiet it was as everyone held their breaths in anticipation of any news about Derek's surgery, walking around gravely as though it would be irreverent to smile while the Head of Neurosurgery's skull flap was being removed in OR one.

"Do you need anything? I can get you a cup of coffee. Or a cup of tequila. Or a whole bottle. Do you want a bottle of tequila?"

Meredith didn't answer as she fidgeted beside her, nervously twirling her fingers as she tried to keep her body from shaking. Cristina sighed, looking back down at her lap. "America has great furniture, you know. For a dollar. It helps to go shopping. We can go shopping if you'd like."

"Is this how you felt?" Meredith asked, ignoring Cristina's nonsensical tirade. "After my near-drowning or whatever, is this . . . did you feel like this?"

Cristina took a breath, her eyes turning to meet Meredith's gaze. She recognized the pain and fear etched on her features, and she sighed, knowing that nothing she could say could make it better. "What do you mean? Did I feel like what?"

The floor felt cold beneath Meredith's legs, the chilly linoleum penetrating the thin cotton of her scrubs. She brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she tried to fight off the frozen feeling that was quickly spreading through her body. "Like you want time to stop. Like you don't want the next second to come because in the next second, the person you love might be dead."

Cristina looked away, hiding her unshed tears as she stared fixedly at the wall in front of her. "Yeah," she whispered, wanting to suppress the burn of emotion in her chest. "Yeah, that's what it felt like."

XXXXX

Love it? Hate it? Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

Izzie somberly entered the resident's locker room, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her lab coat as she sat on the bench next to Alex. He looked at her briefly, his eyes connecting with hers before returning his gaze to his lap. "Dude, this is unreal."

She nodded, swallowing through the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. "Yeah," she whispered.

A heavy silence stretched on, both sitting in reverent quietness. They looked up from their laps only when the door of the locker room swung open, a frazzled George stumbling into the room. Alex immediately opened his mouth to speak, but seeing Izzie's glare of warning, he quickly clamped his lips shut, swallowing the urge to make a snide remark about George being in the residents' locker room.

George joined them on the bench, his thighs pushing against Izzie's so that she was forced to move over, the three of them now sitting side by side, their shoulders pressed tightly together on the cramped seat. "I heard about Dr. Shepherd. They just took him in for a craniotomy."

Izzie nodded, her shoulders stiff as George's thighs continued to press into hers. "Yeah, poor Meredith."

Alex peered at her, his eyes incredulous. "Poor Meredith? Poor _Shepherd. _He's the one having his skull cut open. Besides, they're not even together."

Izzie sighed, scowling at Alex's insensitivity. "Maybe not officially, but that doesn't mean that Meredith doesn't love him," she said, glancing fleetingly towards George. He refused to meet her gaze as he fidgeted next to her, so she looked back down at her lap, a fresh wave of tears filling her gaze. "She does. She _loves_ him. She loves him with all of her heart."

George frowned, sniffing as he bounced his knee nervously. "Maybe . . . maybe love isn't always enough, Izzie."

And suddenly Izzie knew that they weren't talking about Meredith and Derek anymore.

Without uttering a word, she stood up, not letting her tears fall until she was safely on the other side of the locker room door.

XXXXX

Cristina scowled when she saw Lexie approaching, a cup of coffee in each hand and her gaze focused intently on Meredith's figure where she still sat on the floor in the hallway. Rising to her feet, she placed her hand lightly on Meredith's shoulder. "I'll be right back."

She didn't wait for a response as she crossed the hallway, stopping in front of Lexie as she rested her hands on her hips. "What do you think you're doing?"

Lexie's eyes roamed to Meredith's figure momentarily before turning to stare at Cristina. "I'm going to make sure that Meredith's okay."

Cristina scowled. "I don't think so, Three. I need you to stay in the pit. And you know what? She doesn't need you hanging all over her right now."

Lexie frowned. "They don't need me down there. Dr. Herron said I could come see Meredith."

"Well I'm saying you can't. Go to the pit. _Now, _Three."

Lexie swallowed, her chin rising defiantly. "My name is _Lexie_. And I'm _going_ to check on my sister."

Narrowing her eyes, Cristina moved to block Lexie's path as she tried to step around her. "I don't think so, _Lexie_. That's my person over there. It's my job to protect her, and she doesn't need her annoying, quasi-stalker, long-lost-half-sister trying to talk out all the daddy issues right now."

Sighing, Lexie shook her head. "I get that; I get that she's your person. But she's my _sister_, Dr. Yang. I just want to be there for her. I promise I won't get in the way. I won't even say anything."

Studying her expression suspiciously, Cristina sighed, pointing her finger in Lexie's face. "Not one word, Three."

Lexie nodded. "I promise."

With a scowl, Cristina moved to the side so that Lexie could pass by her. "And she doesn't want coffee," she snapped as an afterthought.

Lexie nodded, offering her a small smile as she deposited the two cups into the trashcan and walked over to where Meredith still sat against the wall. Silently, they both slid down beside her, one on each side.

Without saying a word, Lexie placed her hand on Meredith's arm, squeezing it gently. Meredith turned her head, glancing at Lexie with pain-filled eyes. On the other side of her, Cristina sighed, her hand rising from her lap and landing on top of Meredith's other arm, trying to offer her comfort. Biting her lip against a fresh onslaught of tears, Meredith closed her eyes, leaning her head against the wall.

XXXXX

Izzie's throat ached with heartbreak as she watched George and Callie lean close to one another as they stood by the nurses' station. Their movements were almost nervous, but the occasional deliberate brushings of their bodies left no doubt in Izzie's mind that when George had told her that love wasn't always enough, he wasn't talking about his love for Callie. Sniffing, she turned around, needing to get away from the claustrophobic scene, but she gasped in surprise when she ran into the figure standing behind her. Looking up, she began to apologize for her clumsiness until she saw that it was Mark Sloan standing in front of her, his lips pressed thinly together as his eyes connected with hers.

"You should watch where you're going."

She scowled at him. "Maybe _you _should watch where you're standing."

Brushing passed him without so much as a second glance, she headed full speed toward the resident's locker room. "Stevens, will you slow down?" But she didn't listen as she ignored the echo of his footsteps behind her, pushing through the door and taking in a relieved breath when she found the room empty.

Izzie frowned when Mark walked into the room moments later, a scowl on his face as he folded his arms across his chest. "Didn't anyone ever teach you to listen to your superiors? I asked you to slow down."

She rolled her eyes, staring at him with mild irritation. "What do you want, Dr. Sloan?"

His face softening, he walked toward her, sitting down on the bench in the middle of the room and watching her with a somber expression. "I want to apologize. What I said to you earlier in the stairwell was . . . well, it was out of line, Stevens. I'm sorry."

She swallowed, nodding her head. "Yeah, well, it's fine, I guess. I shouldn't have compared what's happening with George and me to what's happening to Derek."

He met her eyes when she finally sat down next to him, offering her a smile. "You were just trying to help."

She nodded, unable to break their stare. "I believe that Derek's going to be okay, Dr. Sloan. He is. I know it."

Mark laughed, the noise sounding strained. "It's rare for a doctor to maintain such optimism after working in a hospital. I respect you for not losing that, Stevens." Swallowing through a swell of emotion, he looked down at his lap. "Derek had that optimism, you know."

Izzie shook her head, not even thinking before placing a comforting hand on his thigh. "He still has it, Mark. Don't give up on him. You have to believe that he's going to survive this."

Mark's eyes paused briefly on the slender hand resting on his thigh before traveling to Izzie's face. He wasn't sure how it happened, but within in seconds, his lips were on hers, his hands on her body as he pulled her to her feet.

With each new image of Derek floating through his mind, his kisses became more urgent, his hands more rough, and he soon discovered that touching Izzie Stevens was far more therapeutic than anything he could've imagined. His fingers delved into her hair, his lips pulling and biting and licking at hers fervently. He heard her moan, recognized the faint movements of their scrub tops being removed before he felt the lace of her bra tickling the smooth planes of his chest as she pressed her soft body against his.

The zealousness with which she returned his passion was a surprise to Mark. His eyes widened, his heart drumming loudly in his chest when he felt her icy fingers tickling the skin of his abdomen, slithering downward and grasping hold of the ties at the top of his scrub pants. Panting, he placed his hands on her shoulders, shaking his head as he pushed her away. "No, no wait. We can't do this. I . . . I'm upset about Derek. I'm just using you, Izzie."

She nodded in understanding, stepping closer to him so that she could press her cheek against his. She wondered briefly if it was her incessant need to make people feel better that was making her hips arch into Mark's, or if it had more to do with her aching need to get George O'Malley out of her mind. Shaking her head, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his ear. "That's okay, Mark. I might be using you a little bit, too," she whispered, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the shower in the adjoining ladies room.

The hot spray of water was biting against the coldness of their skin, nearly scalding them with its intensity as their bodies twisted together against the warm tiles of the shower. Moans were swallowed in the midst of deep, heart pounding kisses, steam rising around their bodies as Mark's hips pounded against hers in a fierce, mind blowing rhythm.

Though they both noticed, neither commented on the fact that the moisture slipping down their cheeks had little to do with the water spewing from the faucet.

XXXXX

Cristina glanced at Meredith, her brow furrowing as the toe of Meredith's shoe continued to tap nervously against the floor. Biting her lip, Cristina sighed. "Meredith, is there anything you need?"

The tapping stopped, Meredith's eyes abandoning their vacant stare as she turned to Cristina. "Two hours. _Two hours_ and not one word from anyone. You think they'd at least send a nurse to give me an update. _Somebody_ should come tell me what's going on."

Lexie offered her a smile. "I'm sure they're doing everything they can, Meredith."

Cristina nodded. "If there was something wrong, they'd let you know. It's a good sign that they haven't come out here yet."

Sighing, Meredith's eyes returned to the wall in front of her as the tapping of her toes continued. If it weren't for the timely beeping of her pager, Cristina might have said something further, but the intruding noise diverted her attention, causing her to look at the tiny device at her waist. Swearing under her breath, she turned to Lexie. "Three, go see why they're paging me to the pit."

It was obvious by her expression that Lexie wanted to protest, but she thought better of it when she noticed the way Meredith's body was unconsciously leaning towards Cristina's, their shoulders almost touching as though Meredith was drawing some kind of invisible strength from her friend. Swallowing her irritation, Lexie nodded her head, rising to her feet without a single objection. "Meredith, if there's anything I can do for you . . ."

But she let the thought die on her tongue, both knowing that there was nothing she could possibly do.

XXXXX

Izzie wrapped a towel around her body as she stepped out of the shower, Mark following closely behind her with an identical towel cloaked around his waist. He pressed his lips firmly together, frowning at her retreating figure. "Izzie."

She didn't turn around, instead heading straight into the locker room, groaning when she found their carelessly abandoned scrub tops lying in the center of the floor. "_Crap_."

He sighed when she bent over to pick them up, tossing his shirt to him before scanning the room. "Do you, uh, do you see my bra?"

Mark's lips twisted as he leaned forward, picking up the scrap of chocolate colored lace from behind the bench. Holding it up in an effort of bribery, he stared at her pointedly, a smirk forming on his lips. "You don't get this back until you talk to me. Stop being awkward."

She sighed, folding her arms across her chest. "I'm not being awkward. I just . . . I don't make a habit of engaging in casual sex, Mark. I just don't know how I'm supposed to act right now, okay?"

He offered her a smile, walking towards her and taking her shoulders in his hands. "You're supposed to act just like you do after you have relationship sex," he told her, smiling as he placed a soft kiss on her lips. "And I'm sure that means that you're going to fall in love with me. Don't worry, that happens a lot."

She rolled her eyes, grabbing her bra from his hands. "Shut up."

Laughing softly, he shrugged. "There's not a certain way you're supposed to act, Izzie."

She nodded her head, swallowing nervously. "Well I don't want you to feel obligated to act a certain way, either. I know what this was. I'm know this wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for the whole George thing and Derek's accident, so-"

She paused when she saw him flinch, the mention of Derek's name causing a pain to burn in his chest. It was as though Izzie had been a temporary anesthesia, and now the mere reminder of the situation caused the pain in Mark's heart to return with a vengence. Tilting her head to the side, Izzie looked at him sympathetically, her hand rising to stroke his cheek. "I'm sorry. God, I shouldn't have said anything."

He was about to respond when the door of the locker room flew open, Callie walking into the room with a handful of charts. Her eyes widened when they landed on Mark and Izzie, a smirk rising to her face as she noted their near nudity.

Izzie's hand immediately dropped from Mark's cheek as she stepped away from him, her hands moving quickly to tighten the towel around her body. Her eyes were fearful as they rose to meet Callie's, her cheeks turning crimson with humiliation.

Callie shook her head, glancing between Mark and Izzie with a look of disgust on her face. "Well I suppose it was inevitable that the hospital whores would find their way into each other's beds."

And with that, she turned around and left the locker room.

XXXXX

Cristina groaned when her pager went off for the second time in five minutes. "Damn it," she muttered, checking the screen.

Meredith sniffed, rubbing her tired eyes with her hands. "It's probably Lexie. I'm sure they need you in the ER, Cristina. You should go"

Shaking her head, Cristina replaced the pager on the waistband of her scrubs. "I'm not leaving you by yourself."

The promise was countered with the response of a masculine voice. "I'll stay with her, Yang."

Cristina and Meredith looked up simultaneously, Meredith smiling tearfully when she saw Alex hovering above her. Cristina scowled, shaking her head. "If you think I'm trusting you with my person, Evil Spawn, you're out of your mind."

Alex sat in Lexie's abandoned seat, shrugging his shoulders. "Fine, ignore your page. It's your career."

Narrowing her eyes, Cristina sighed heavily before looking at Meredith. "Are you sure you'll be okay? I won't be gone long. I'm just going to fix whatever my interns have screwed up and I'll come right back."

Meredith nodded. "It's fine, Cristina. I'll be alright."

Alex and Meredith sat in relative silence, Alex occasionally glancing at Meredith to make sure that she was keeping it together before turning his gaze back to his lap. "So are you doing okay?"

Meredith swallowed, the simple question causing tears to fill her eyes. "No," she answered, her voice cracking.

Alex nodded, his hand covering her knee and squeezing gently. "Well if you need to talk or, you know, beat me with your tiny ineffectual fists, I'm all yours."

A soft laugh escaped Meredith's mouth as she covered Alex's hand with her own. "Thank you."

They fell back into an easy silence, both delving so deeply in their own thoughts that neither noticed the encroaching footsteps. This was the position that Izzie found them in as she approached, pinning her damp hair to the crown of her head with a clip as she sat down on the other side of Meredith. "You doing okay?"

Meredith shrugged, shaking her head as she turned to look at Izzie with an overwhelmed expression. "I can't lose him, Izzie."

The crack of Meredith's voice caused Izzie's heart to break. Nodding her head, she leaned against the wall. "You're not going to lose him, Meredith."

XXXXX

Bailey scrubbed her hands of the residue from Derek's surgery, stretching the muscles of her neck before inclining her head to look at the chief.

"Do you want to talk to Meredith or should I?"

Dr. Webber sighed, shaking his head grimly as he stared into the stainless steel water basin, rinsing the soap from his hands with icy cold water. "This is why interns should never get involved with their attendings."

She frowned. "Meredith Grey's not an intern anymore, sir."

Shaking his head, Dr. Webber leaned his hip against the sink, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. "It doesn't matter. She was a baby when they got involved; an intern. She was too young to know better. Derek should have known better, but she . . . _she_ was just a baby."

Taking a breath, Bailey shook her head. "You know as well as I do that we can't control who we love."

Her comment caused his breath to hitch in the back of his throat. Closing his eyes, he sighed. "I promised Ellis that I would take care of her. I promised her that I would protect her daughter. But I can't protect her from this, Miranda. I . . . I can't."

Bailey studied his expression, sighing as she noted the deep lines of exhaustion around his eyes, the tension knotting atop his shoulders. Drying her hands with a towel, she walked to the door of the scrub room. "Don't worry about it, Chief. I'll go talk to her."

XXXXX

The waiting was killing her.

But if she closed her eyes, squeezed them tightly enough so that not even the tiniest bit of light penetrated her lids, she could see his face as clearly as if he was standing right in front of her. She could see the hazel color of his eyes, the left one reflecting a gold tone slightly deeper than the right. She could see gentle cleft of his chin, the soft swell of his lips as he opened them to tell her that he loved her.

_All I want to tell you is that I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you forever._

She swallowed, leaning the back of her head against the wall. She inhaled, imagining that she could smell him, the faint aroma of soap and sandalwood clinging to his skin after his morning shower. She could feel his touch, the rough skin of his fingers running along her cheeks, his strong arms encircling her waist as he buried his nose in her hair, inhaling the scent of her conditioner.

_You kissed me. Soft. It was quick. Kind of like a habit. You know, like we'd do it everyday for the rest of our lives._

She couldn't help but wonder if their last kiss had really been their _last_. If their quick, dirty moment in the on-call room had been her final chance to feel the smooth caress of his lips. The thought was devastating, causing her chin to quiver as she suppressed the need to cry, her body beginning to shake as she struggled to take air into her lungs. On either side of her, she could sense Izzie and Alex straightening, looking at her with worried eyes as they warned her to take in deep, even breaths; warned her not to let herself hyperventilate. She wanted to push them away, to yell that they couldn't help her. There was only one person who could save her, and she had never even let him.

_And just for the record? I am your knight in shining whatever._

Izzie's arm threaded around her shoulders, pulling her toward her body until Meredith finally relented, letting her head fall to Izzie's shoulder as a sob escaped her lips. And then she couldn't stop, her tiny frame shaking with the effort of her cries, tears streaming from her eyelids and disappearing into the rough material of Izzie's scrub top.

_On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it?_

Pressing her lips together, she closed her eyes, squeezing them shut until all she could see was an image of Derek's face. "_It's a ten_."

Just as the quiet whisper escaped her lips, Meredith caught sight of Dr. Bailey rounding the corner, her exhausted eyes focused directly on Meredith.


	3. Chapter 3

Meredith slid into standing position, her back slithering up the wall as Dr. Bailey approached her. Bailey's face was somber, the intense look in her eyes causing Meredith's breath to hitch in the back of her throat. On either side of her, Izzie and Alex were grasping each of her elbows, neither trusting the stability of her legs enough to let her stand on her own. "Dr. Bailey?"

Bailey stopped in front of Meredith, a thin smile forming on her lips. "We just finished the surgery. He's in a recovery room right now while he's coming off anesthesia."

A rush of air escaped Meredith's lips as she leaned her weight against the wall behind her. She could see Izzie and Alex smiling at her, their lips moving as they undoubtedly spewed words of encouragement, but the incessant ringing in her head seemed to block their words from penetrating her inner ear. A fragile smile formed on her lips as she stared at Dr. Bailey, seemingly unaware of the tears that were slowly spilling over her eyelids. "So . . . so he's okay?"

Bailey frowned, her hand rising to Meredith's arm as she led her to a nearby waiting area, sitting her in the chair opposite of hers. She met Meredith's fearful eyes with the bravery of a veteran surgeon, her elbows pressing against her knees as she leaned toward the younger doctor. "Like I said, we're still waiting for him to come off the anesthesia. When he does, he's going to be transferred in the Neuroscience ICU for monitoring; we have to watch for strokes and seizures and make sure there're no cerebrospinal fluid leaks. But Meredith, we probably won't know the full extent of his brain injury until he wakes up."

Meredith swallowed, her eyes flickering to Izzie and Alex where they stood in the doorway, a sinking feeling plaguing her belly when she noted their twin looks of sympathy. Turning back to Bailey, she shook her head, a questioning look covering her face. "The full extent of his brain injury?"

Bailey nodded, her face twisting into a comforting expression. "We're obviously worried about muscle paralysis or weakening which, as you know, is a common effect of nerve damage. We also have to watch for brain swelling; if his brain does swell, we might have to do a second craniotomy."

It was hard for Meredith to breathe as she listened to Bailey ramble on about possible complications. The events of the last six hours seemed surreal; how was it that Dr. Bailey was sitting before her, talking about Derek's brain as if he were any other neurosurgical patient? How was Bailey talking to _her_ as though she were any other family member, using that _voice, _that _doctor _voice, to coddle her as though the wrong statement could cause her to come apart at the seems?

Her eyes turning back to Bailey's face, she did her best to concentrate on what she was telling her. "And of course we're concerned about the loss of mental functions or other forms of permanent brain damage."

Meredith's mouth was hanging open as she forced herself to take in deep, even breaths, effectively trying to dispel the feeling of nausea that was quickly rising to her throat. "So . . . so you're saying that he might _not_ be okay?"

Covering Meredith's hand with her own, Bailey forced Meredith to meet her eyes. "I'm _saying _that we have to wait and see."

XXXXX

When she was a kid, Izzie would stand in the small clearing behind her mother's trailer, the grass prickling her bare feet as she lifted her face toward the sky. Spreading her arms out by her side, she would smile as the warm sun beat down on her face, the breeze tickling her long, blonde hair as she began to spin.

Izzie had loved the way the tall trees would zoom in and out of her line of vision as she twirled in continual circles, her feet stepping in an unpredictable path as her head began to grow dizzy. It was that loss of control, that brief feeling of abandon that Izzie craved.

And now, as she sat on the bottom bunk in the on-call room, her finger twirling nervously in her hair as she waited for Mark to respond to her page, Izzie realized that she was no different than that naïve seven year old girl who used to believe that there was nothing greater than that final fall; who used to believe that there was nothing more pleasurable than the sensation of relinquishing control of her body as she dropped to the ground, her head whirling as her eyes fluttered closed. She still craved that feeling of exhilaration, that loss of inhibition that often came with the most daring decisions in life.

That was the feeling Izzie had gotten when Mark had pressed her back against the tiles of the shower a couple of hours earlier, her heart pounding wildly in her chest as his mouth devoured hers, and she now could feel that same rush of excitement returning within her as the door of the on-call room opened, Mark slipping through the opening as he subtly pressed the lock with his thumb. He smiled at her as she stood up from the bed, standing before him with her hands hanging limply by her sides. "Hey, I got your page."

She nodded, her eyes rising to meet his. "Derek's out of surgery. I thought you'd want to know."

The smile instantly fell from Mark's face, his eyes darkening as he walked to the bunk bed and sat down, the mattress dipping below the force of his weight as he settled on the bottom bunk. "And?"

Izzie sat down beside him, taking his hand in hers as she repeated Bailey's earlier words. Mark listened intently, his eyes closing as he attempted to keep his tears from spilling onto his cheeks. "So now all we can do is wait?"

The dejected tone of Mark's voice made Izzie blink with confusion. The normally witty, flippant plastic surgeon suddenly had the aura of a wounded boy, and Izzie got the uncomfortable sensation that maybe she'd pegged incorrectly; that maybe she didn't know him as well as she thought she did. This realization caused a sudden guilt to eat at her conscience because, judging by the trembling of his shoulders and the tears welling behind his eyelids, she'd clearly misjudged him by assuming that he had some sort of emotional deficiency.

Her thoughts were stifled, though, as she felt two strong hands slipping beneath her scrub top, pushing aside a bra that suddenly seemed far too confining.

But as his fingers slipped around her back, undoing the clasp of her bra so that her breasts were spilling into his wanting hands, all Izzie could think was that she knew him well _enough_, that they both knew each other well enough to know exactly how to make each other feel better in that moment.

XXXXX

It was Cristina who offered to initially escort Meredith into the NSICU because, after all, she _was _her person, and if it was anyone's responsibility to act as an emotional sponsor for Meredith, it was hers. But when the first sob escaped Meredith's lips as they walked through the curtained area that housed Derek's bed, Cristina couldn't help but think that she was vastly under qualified for the job.

It was a monumental occasion for Cristina Yang to admit to being under qualified for anything, but she knew that no amount of education at Smith or Berkeley or Stanford, that no number of degrees listed behind her name, that not even having the most impressive of IQ scores, could ever provide her with the ability to give Meredith what she needed at that moment. Even George, even Izzie, even _Bailey_, couldn't possibly give her what she craved. Because at that moment in the NSICU, in the midst of people fighting impossible battles, in the midst of people losing hope, in the midst of people _dying_, all Meredith needed was for Derek to open his eyes. She needed the chance to apologize for being selfish and to beg for a second chance. Most importantly, though, she needed for Derek to laugh, to tease her and tell her that there was nothing she could ever do that could warrant him not giving her another chance. Because, in spite of everything, she would always be the love of his life.

They walked closer to Derek's bed, the even _whooshing _of the ventilator and the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor causing Cristina's nerves to fray. She would've thought that the thousands of hours working in the hospital would have prepared her for this, but as she stood just behind Meredith, watching her person approach the only man she'd ever allowed herself to love with a hesitancy that broke Cristina's heart, she knew that there was absolutely nothing that could have readied her for such a scene.

And at that moment, Cristina hated her father. She hated him for crashing his car into the guardrail on that California highway twenty years before. She hated him for bleeding out before the ambulance could arrive on the scene. She hated him. Cristina Yang hated her father for dying and leaving her emotionally incapable of being there for her person when she needed her the most.

Swallowing back tears as she watched Meredith sit in the chair next to Derek's bed, watched her take his hand into hers as she laid her face against the cool sheets next to his body, Cristina cast her eyes down to the floor and quietly left the room.

XXXXX

Five hours after the completion of Derek's surgery, Bailey stood at the back of his designated area in the NSICU, a frown marring her face as she looked at the sight before her. Meredith's upper body was lying on Derek's bed, her face pressed against his thigh as she mumbled fitfully in sleep. A sigh escaping her lips, Bailey looked away from the image only when she felt another body invading her personal space, her eyes connecting with Alex's when she looked up. "No change?" he asked.

She shook her head at his whispered inquiry, redirecting her gaze back to the scene before them. "No change."

Alex nodded, his hands falling uselessly in the pockets of his lab coat. "Well at least she's sleeping, I guess."

Bailey could feel emotion welling within her, an emotion that she tried so desperately to avoid in the hospital, but one she was powerless to stop when it came to the five young doctors she'd raised during internship. Pressing her lips together in a subtle appeal for self-control, she sighed, her eyes scanning the lines of stress around Meredith's eyes. "That girl . . . she doesn't deserve this. Neither of them deserve this after everything they've been through."

Alex swallowed nervously, pretending not to notice the quiver in Bailey's voice. "No one ever deserves this, Dr. Bailey," he told her, his gaze returning to his slumbering roommate. "I'm just worried that . . . that she can't take anything else this year. There's just been so much, you know with her mom and Susan, and then the whole dying thing, and now her sister appearing out of no where. It's a lot for one person, you know? And now with Dr. Shepherd . . ." Sighing, Alex shook his head. "I mean, if he dies-"

Bailey's eyes sharpened as she turned her gaze to Alex's face. "If Dr. Shepherd dies, it'll be _terrible_." Her lips were pressed tightly together as she shook her head, her eyes connecting with his. "Meredith will be devastated. She'll probably fall apart." She took a deep breath, her gaze moving to Meredith's still sleeping figure. "But if she does, you'll be there for her. We'll _all_ be there to pick her up and put her back on her feet. Because that's what Meredith would do for you. Because that's what _family_ does for each other."

XXXXX

Meredith's eyes opened to find Mark's pale face staring down at the bed, his eyes wide as he watched Derek's chest rise and fall in rhythm with the ventilator. She sat up, blinking several times as her vision adjusted to the light of the room, cringing at the bitter taste clinging to her tongue. "Mark?"

He took a deep breath, tearing his gaze away from Derek only long enough to acknowledge Meredith's presence. "It doesn't even look like him."

Her knees were trembling as she stood to her feet. Unable to resist the desire to run her hand lightly across his face, she did so, her knuckles encountering the broken skin of his cheek. "I know."

He swallowed through the lump of emotion collecting in his throat, his fingers trailing across the cotton hospital sheets as he approached the head of Derek's bed. "I, um . . . do you think you could give me a few minutes alone with him?"

Meredith looked at him incredulously, wanting to yell at him for even _asking_ her to leave Derek's side, but when her eyes connected with his, when she noticed the tears clinging to his eyelashes as he looked at her with a desperate expression, her mouth immediately clamped shut, the protest dying on her lips as she nodded her head in affirmation. With one final look at Derek, she kissed his forehead beneath the stark-white bandage wrapped tightly at his hairline, whispering a quiet _I love you_ before leaving Mark alone with him.

Mark's eyes closed briefly as he sat on the edge of the bed, carefully avoiding the wires twisting from all areas of Derek's body. Sighing, he studied his best friend's face, his eyes not missing a detail as he seemingly tried to memorize every slope and crevice. "You're an idiot, you know that? I can't believe you did this," he whispered, his hand running tiredly over his eyes. "I can't believe you were stupid enough to get back on a motorcycle. Christ, Derek, you can barely ride a _bike_."

He sniffed, willing his tears at bay. "When you wake up, you're going to be pissed at yourself for fucking up your face. You're . . . you're probably going to expect me to fix it for you," he told him, his voice cracking. "And I might . . . I _might_ . . . but you have to promise me, Derek, that _when _you wake up, you'll stop being so stupid. You have to promise me that you'll find another way to get rid of whatever issues you're having; whatever issues that made you get on that motorcycle in the first place."

Mark's hand rose to his face, his thumb angrily swiping away a tear that was slowly sliding over his cheekbone. Swallowing, he closed his eyes. "You have to promise me, Derek. You have to promise me because . . . because you're my brother," he admitted, unable to control the hoarseness of his voice. "You're my brother and I can't . . . I can't live in a world without my brother."

XXXXX

Meredith realized that she didn't really know where to go as she left the NSICU, her feet heavy as she moved mindlessly down the hall. She thought briefly that she should probably get some coffee, or maybe even take a shower, but the idea of doing something for herself, the idea of indulging in such _luxuries_ while Derek couldn't even breathe on his own, suddenly seemed preposterous. Instead, she opted to find a quiet place to sit, maybe an empty waiting room or a darkened linen closet, until she couldn't stand to be away from Derek any longer.

But when she turned the corner of the first waiting area she came upon, instead of finding it empty as she would've expected it to be at almost eleven o'clock at night, she found it full of doctors; more specifically, she found it full of her _friends_, each of them existing in various forms of disarray as they slumbered around the room.

Cristina's back was pressed against the wall, her mouth open as she snored lightly against her own shoulder, her fingers limply clinging to a year old edition of _Cosmopolitan._ Beside her, George's body was sprawled out across the floor, his ear pressed against his balled-up lab coat that he was using as a make-shift pillow, an arm flung across his eyes in his attempt to drown out the light. And across the room, Izzie and Alex sat side by side in a pair of seemingly uncomfortable chairs, Izzie's head supported by Alex's shoulder, his cheek pressed against the top of her hair.

Meredith sighed, walking through the doorway and taking a seat in the middle of the room. Their presence didn't make everything better; knowing that her friends were there for her didn't magically take away all of her pain and worry.

But as Meredith bowed her head, taking in a deep breath as her eyes fluttered shut, she realized that it helped. And for the moment, that was enough.

XXXXX

**So funny story. **_**Calamity**_**? It was originally supposed to be a one-shot, a tiny little one-parter just to clear my mind and have something new to work on. And then I decided to break it into two parts so that it wouldn't be too long.**

**But here I am at the end of chapter three and I'm **_**still**_** not finished. Why? Because of you fabulously persistent reviewers (who I absolutely love with all my heart and soul). It seems that I respond to your feedback by writing more and more, trying to drag this thing out as long as I can. Because you're all just so **_**nice**_**. But seriously? One more part to go. Really, I mean it. It's over after chapter four.**

**(Unless, of course, it's not, in which case it's **_**seriously**_** over after chapter five. Really people. I mean business.)**


	4. Chapter 4

She couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking about, wonder _if _he was thinking about anything, as she sat vigilantly by his bedside, her finger absently circling his palm in synchronization with the timely rhythm of the beeping heart monitor. His face was completely relaxed, his unconscious state leaving him unusually devoid of worry lines as he slept, ignorant to the world around him.

Meredith sighed as her gaze left Derek's face, her eyes sweeping around the private room that he'd been moved into hours before. The room was unusually quiet compared to the bustling sounds of the NSICU and was already overflowing with vases of flowers, typically delivered on behalf of various departments from within the hospital. The colorful displays were predictably accompanied by attached standardized greeting cards, most of which were signed by people who knew nothing of Derek Shepherd beyond his incomparable skill in the OR.

She mindlessly plucked a card from a vase of chrysanthemums, scanning the signatures of the rheumatology nurses who promised to keep Derek in their thoughts and prayers. Instead of making her feel appreciative as she knew it should, the faceless signatures left her feeling bitter. Out of the fifteen names scrawled on the card, not one was familiar to Meredith, and she knew instinctively that Derek wouldn't recognize them, either. She couldn't help but think what a daft, pointless tradition it was to send flowers to near-strangers during times of hardship, to make promises to pray for someone who would undoubtedly be forgotten the moment the shift-change began.

Those nurses didn't know Derek like she did; they weren't hurt by this like she was. If he never woke up, their world wouldn't crumble like hers would. If Derek didn't pull through this, the only thing that would be different for them is that they would be sending _her_ a vase of flowers, the sympathy card branded with their fifteen signatures promising to keep _her_ in their thoughts and prayers.

As she released the card from her fingertips and mindlessly watched as it floated to the ground, a tear escaped Meredith's eyelid, hitting her cheek at the same moment the card hit the sterile linoleum floor. Sniffing back the rest of her tears, Meredith stood to her feet, walking on wobbly knees to the window on the far side of the room, her fingers separating the cheap plastic blinds as she peered outside.

The day was gloomy, the mid-morning sunlight almost completely hidden by a collection of clouds hovering in the Seattle skies. Pressing her fingertips against the windowpane, she shivered against its coldness, the frosty winter temperature infiltrating the glass. At some point in the forty-eight hours that Derek had been unconscious, a thin sheet of snow had blanketed the ground on the other side of the window, sheathing the city in its first snowfall of the winter. It wasn't until that moment that she realized how long it had been since she'd stepped outside the walls of Seattle Grace, the obviously freezing outdoor temperature catching her by surprise.

Her stomach fluttered at the sight, her thoughts lingering on how upset Derek would be that he missed it. He loved snow, loved the way the freezing powder liquefied as it hit his warm skin, loved the way it crunched beneath his feet as he'd walked along the path outside of his trailer. The first time it had snowed in Seattle a few months after Meredith had begun her internship, she and Derek had rested on the couch in front of the fireplace, watching tiny flakes flutter to the ground on the other side of the living room window.

As she laid with her back pressed to Derek's chest as he stroked the length of her wavy hair, he'd told her of how his father had kept him home from school on the first snow day of the winter when he was six years old, the two of them riding to the outskirts of the city where tiny hills stood as an invitation for sledding. Though her back had been facing him, Meredith had known he was smiling the entire time he spoke, and she couldn't help but feel envious of the memory he had with his father. Really, though, she was envious of his relationship with his entire family; his feigned irritation for the sisters he'd do anything for, his devotion to the mother who he'd die to protect. She'd never had that, never felt that way about anyone, and even when Derek had offered her the chance to have it with him, a quiet voice in her head, one that sounded strikingly similar to Ellis Grey, warned her to run in the other direction.

As she stood at the window now with her fingertips pressed against the glass, she sighed heavily, shifting her eyes until they were resting on Derek's still figure. "I'm mad at you, you know," she told him quietly, turning her face once again so that she could look out at the bleak view of Seattle. "I had to call your mom yesterday to tell her what happened. And she already hates me, Derek, because I'm the slutty intern or whatever. And now I'm the slutty intern who told her that her son refuses to wake up after crashing a motorcycle on an interstate ramp."

She sighed when there was no response from him beyond the beeping of the machines, moving toward the bed until she was perched on the corner of the mattress. Pursing her lips together, she ran her fingers through his hair before bringing her hands to his face, flattering her palms against his cheeks. "But I'll forgive you. I'll let you off the hook even though you gave your mom one more reason to hate me. I'll forgive you if you wake up right _now_, Derek."

But he didn't move, didn't even flutter his eyelids, and Meredith found herself blinking against the stinging in her eyes, fresh tears clinging to her eyelashes before rolling down the sides of her face.

XXXXXX

With Mark's arm draped loosely over her waist, Izzie propped herself up on her elbow, her thumb rubbing lightly against the length of his cheek as his eyes fluttered open. She smiled thinly as he blinked against the light, returning her smile when their eyes finally met. "Hey," he said hoarsely, shifting until he was braced over her, pressing her naked back against the stiff mattress of the bed in the on-call room.

She sighed contentedly as his lips found her jaw line, nipping at her flesh as his hands slipped beneath the sheets. Suppressing a giggle, she moved until her hands were covering his, stilling his fingers as they sought out her breasts. "I really need to go check on my interns."

He grumbled something about how he needed her more than they did, pushing her hands to the side as he captured her nipples between his fingers. "They'll be fine for a few more minutes."

Rolling her eyes, she smiled against his lips as he leaned in for a kiss, his rough mouth causing flutters in her belly. With a soft moan rolling off her tongue, she pushed lightly against his chest, turning her head sideways. "No, seriously, Mark. I haven't seen them in almost an hour. There's no telling what they're getting themselves into."

His hands instantly stilled, one arm flying up as his eyes sought out his watch. "Oh _shit_! We've been in here for almost an hour."

She nodded as he confirmed what she'd just said, a frown forming on her face as she watched him spring from the bed and gather his clothes from the heap on the floor. Her brow furrowing, she pulled the bed sheet over her chest, resting her chin in her hand as she watched him dress. "What's wrong with you?"

He sighed as he pulled his sweater over his head, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to smother its messiness. "I have to – uh, have you seen my socks? – I have to go pick up Derek's mom and one of his sisters from the airport."

Pointing to the socks that rested beneath her discarded panties, she frowned. "Oh," she said quietly, chewing on her lip anxiously. "Are you going to be okay? I can, um, I can go with you if you want."

He stilled, a sock covering only half of his foot as he glanced up to meet her eyes. He looked as though he wanted to take her up on her offer, like her suggestion was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to him, but after a brief pause, he merely shook his head. "Thanks, but I'll be fine."

Nodding, she sat up, swinging her legs over the bed and standing to her feet. She silently dressed, aware of Mark's eyes watching her every move as she slipped on her scrubs. Smoothing the wrinkles from the light blue cotton and gathering her hair in a ponytail, she smiled at him before planting a light kiss on his cheek. "Well page me if you need me, okay?"

He nodded, offering her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Frowning, she reached up, cupping his cheek in her palm. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He sighed, his hand turning the doorknob of the on-call room. _No, I'm not okay; my best friend could be dying_. "Yeah, I'm fine."

She pursed her lips as he walked out of the room, knowing instinctively that he was lying. She realized that what they were doing didn't constitute a relationship, that having casual comfort sex in various corners of the hospital didn't warrant any sort of trust between them, but the ache in his eyes didn't go unnoticed by Izzie.

And she hated the whole situation for him; she hated that he was hurting and that he felt like he had to go through it alone.

Sighing, she gave herself one last glance in the mirror before turning to exit the room, a look of surprise springing to her face as she came face-to-face with George in the threshold. He stepped forward, compelling her backwards as he shut the door behind him, turning to her with a hardened expression. "So you're really sleeping with Sloan? And don't even bother trying to deny it. I just watched him leave the room."

Her cheeks reddened, her mouth falling open. "Excuse me?"

He shook his head sadly, staring at her blankly as though he suddenly didn't recognize her anymore. "I refused to believe it, and now I just feel like a fool for not listening to . . ."

She scowled as he trailed off, her eyes boldly meeting his. "Who? Your _wife_?"

Sighing, George shook his head in disbelief. "What are you doing with him, Izzie? Are you trying to get back at me or something?"

Rolling her eyes, a bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Don't flatter yourself, George. This has nothing to do with you. What I do and who I do it with are no longer any of your business."

He could tell her patience was running thin as she stood stonily before him, her hands braced on her hips. Shifting his weight nervously, he lifted his chin defiantly, trying a different approach. "Mark Sloan sleeps with everyone. He's a whore, Izzie."

"Well according to your wife, so am, I," she told him instantly, the bite of her words causing him to flinch.

He leaned his back against the door, his gaze floating to the wall over Izzie's shoulder where he stared vacantly out a tiny window. "I don't want to fight with you. You're my best friend and I just . . . I just don't want you to get hurt."

The words stung, leaving a pang in her chest that she would never admit to. Her eyes becoming glassy with tears, Izzie's gaze shifted to the ground. "You don't want me to get hurt _again_, you mean?"

Looking shameful, he stepped away from the door, moving until he was standing in front of her. He wanted to touch her, to grab her hand or wipe away her tears, but he knew that even the most platonic of touches would be a bad idea at that moment. "I'm sorry, Izzie."

She shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant as she wiped away a tear, a shaky breath escaping her mouth. "She's your wife. I get it. Whatever."

He nodded, easily seeing through her facade. "I don't know if we can make our marriage work, but I owe it to Callie to try. She's a good person, Izzie. You'd see that if you'd just try to get to know her."

A small smile formed on Izzie's mouth at his comment, her teeth clamping down on her lips as she tried unsuccessfully to suppress a giggle that she knew was inappropriate. The idea of getting to know Callie made Izzie laugh; not in an acrid way as George had been expecting, but in a humored way that he hadn't heard in weeks. The sound made him smile as he met her eyes, his lips twisting in confusion. "Why's that funny?"

She shook her head, trying to stifle the noises escaping through her mouth without her permission. "It's not. Sorry . . . sorry, I'm not laughing at you. It's not funny." She giggled again, tears of laughter filling her eyes as she sat down on the bed.

He rolled his eyes, sitting down beside her as he smacked her arm playfully. "Shut up."

This only made her laugh harder, her hand rising to slap his arm lightly in an act of revenge. "_You_ shut up."

Still smiling, he met her eyes as her giggles subsided, his expression turning serious. "We're not going to let this thing mess up our friendship, right? I need for things to be like they used to be, Iz. I need you to be my best friend again."

She smiled, sighing softly as she nodded her head. "I need that, too," she told him, taking his hand in hers and squeezing gently. Her eyes were mischievous when they returned to his, her lips curling into a devilish smile. "It's probably better this way anyway. Mark's a lot better than you in bed."

George's jaw dropped in feigned offence as he leaned forward, pushing her against the mattress and playfully pinning her arms to her sides. "Take that back."

She squealed, a grin spreading across her face as she shook her head fervently. "Never!"

Their subsequent laughter was loud enough that it masked the quiet click of the door as it opened, but neither failed to notice the intrusive throat-clearing as Mark stood in the threshold of the on-call room, his arms crossed over his chest. Both freezing, they turned to him in surprise, meeting unfriendly eyes that conveyed annoyance and a hint of something else. George's own eyes widened, his mouth going dry at the stony expression on the other man's face.

"I forgot my keys," Mark grumbled, walking across the room and plucking them from the dresser before turning back to them. "So what the hell's going on here?"

In between fearing for his life and trying to devise a plan of escape, George recognized the unfamiliar glint in Mark's eyes as jealousy, and he suddenly thought that maybe Izzie actually _was_ becoming more than just a notch in Mark Sloan's notorious bedpost.

XXXXXX

The door of Derek's room quietly opened, a chorus of footsteps echoing as people crossed the threshold. Meredith looked up, her eyes connecting with the concerned expressions of her friends as they walked across the room, stopping only when they were in front of her. Cristina smiled thinly, handing her a cup of coffee. "You look like shit."

Meredith glared at her, hesitantly testing the coffee before taking a hearty sip. "Thank you, Cristina," she mumbled, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Smiling thinly, Alex shrugged. "Dude, she's right. You need a shower."

Glaring at them, Izzie shook her head. "What they _mean_, Mer, is that maybe . . . maybe you should take a break. Go home and get some rest. Maybe even take a hot bath and change your clothes."

Meredith shook her head, turning back to Derek. "Not until he wakes up."

Hesitantly, George walked toward her, crouching down in front of her chair until their eyes were level. "We can stay with him. We can make sure that one of us is always here."

Her face was calm as her gaze connected with his, her lips pressed thinly together. "_I_ have to be here. I'm not leaving him."

Frowning, Cristina shook her head. "But it could be _days_ before he wakes up, Meredith. It could be _weeks_. He might _never-_"

"_Cristina_, stop it" Izzie sharply admonished, glaring at her before stepping closer to Meredith. Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew a banana and a granola bar, thrusting them towards her. "You should at least eat something if you're going to stay here."

Meredith stared at the items sitting idly in Izzie's hand, her face twisting as she shook her head. "No, no I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat, Meredith."

George nodded in agreement with Izzie. "Don't make us get Dr. Bailey."

Glaring at them, Meredith grudgingly took the granola bar from Izzie's palm, slowly undoing the wrapper and taking a tiny bite. It tasted acidic on her tongue, causing her face to contort as she chewed slowly. The moment she swallowed the bite, she knew she'd made a mistake, the bitter coffee and the pungent overload of floral scents in the room and the tasteless granola bar suddenly turning on her, leaving her belly in a tangled web of nausea. Covering her mouth with her hand, she felt the blood draining from her face. "Ugh, I think I'm going to be sick."

If she could have stood up, she would have, but her shaky legs kept her firmly planted in her chair. Alex was quick, though, grabbing a bedpan from a nearby cart and placing it beneath her mouth as Izzie moved forward to sweep her hair from her face. Meredith's breathing was labored as she sat braced above the bedpan, her mouth open as tart saliva welled in her mouth. "I hate this," she whispered as a tear fell from her face, the resounding thump of it hitting the metal bedpan echoing in all of their ears.

George sighed, stroking her knee. "I know you do. We hate this _for_ you."

Taking in a deep breath, Meredith sat back, raising her head slowly as the nausea began to fade away. "Okay, maybe that was a false alarm."

Cristina scowled, folding her arms across her chest as she perched on the corner of Derek's bed. "That's because there's nothing in your stomach for you to puke up. That's what happens you don't eat for two days."

Turning around to glare at her, Alex shook his head. "Leave her alone."

Narrowing her eyes at him, Cristina snorted. "Why are you even in here, Evil Spawn? You're sleeping with _Lexie_. Meredith hates you right now."

George sighed. "Could you guys stop? You're not helping."

"You want to help, Bambi?" Alex asked, rolling his eyes as he turned to glare at George defensively. "Why don't you go help your fellow _interns_ insert IVs and do sutures in the pit?"

Izzie's lips twisted into a scowl. "Stop it, Alex. You need to grow up."

A bitter laugh escaped Alex's mouth as he shook his head. "Oh, really nice, Iz. Go ahead, defend your little boyfriend."

Izzie huffed, folding her arms across her chest. She opened her mouth to say something in return, but immediately clamped it shut, guilt over their petty behavior coursing through her when she noticed Meredith standing to her feet. She expected Meredith to scowl at them, to kick them out of the room, but then she realized that she wasn't even looking at them, that she was looking _through_ them toward the hospital bed.

Her gaze following Meredith's, Izzie suddenly realized that Meredith was looking at Derek, that her wide, tear-filled eyes were trained on his as he blinked slowly, his expression mirroring his confusion as he began to choke against the tube that was supposed to be helping him breathe.

XXXXX

**One more chapter. **_**Hear that, Nikki??**_

**Please review :)**


	5. Chapter 5

Meredith stood in the back of Derek's room in an effort to stay out of the way, her eyes wide as Dr. Webber stood over the bed, his hand resting gently on Derek's shoulder. "I'm going to take out your breathing tube now. I need you to take a deep breath, and then exhale when I count to three."

She had done this herself countless times before; extracted the breathing tubes from at least a hundred patients, pulling the tube from their lungs without so much as a second thought. But this was Derek, _her _Derek, and it was different having to watch _his_ forehead twitch nervously in anticipation, _his_ eyes darting apprehensively around the room as his chest filled with anxiety. Meredith swallowed, taking in a shaky breath when she saw Derek's chest rise as the ventilator filled his lungs with oxygen, cringing as the chief wrapped his hands around the tube.

_One, two_ . . .

Averting her eyes to the floor, Meredith softly bit her lip, her hands clutched tightly at her hips.

_Three_.

She wanted to leave the room, the sound of Derek coughing and gagging against the tube leaving her feeling nauseous. She held her ground, though, refusing to let her feet move until Derek's choking had ceased. And then she was shifting her eyes upward, her gaze falling on Derek's face as he stared wide eyed at Dr. Webber. "Can you tell me your name?"

For a moment he looked confused, but then he was taking a breath, his face contorting in a grimace as a hoarse, strangled sound fell from his lips. Dr. Webber glanced up, his face stern as his eyes connected with Olivia's. "Can you get him some water?"

She nodded, filling a small pink cup and holding a straw to Derek's parched lips. The fluids seemed to ease some of his discomfort, Derek's eyes fluttering closed as his mouth pulled in small gulps of tepid liquid. Smiling reassuringly, Dr. Webber took the cup from Olivia's hand, pulling it away from Derek's mouth and placing it on a nearby table. "Okay, let's try this again. Can you tell me your name?"

But Derek wasn't listening to him, his eyes focusing on Meredith for the first time since Dr. Webber had entered the room. His lips twitched, the smallest hint of a smile forming on his mouth as he closed his eyes. "_Meredith_."

The word was barely more than a mumble, but there was no mistaking the whisper of her name as it rolled off of his tongue. With a chuckle, Dr. Webber glanced at Meredith, grinning as he laid a hand on Derek's shoulder. "Well, that's not exactly the answer that I was looking for, but I guess it'll do."

XXXXXX

Izzie was leaning against the nurse' station, her eyes staring sightlessly at the chart in front of her as her teeth sunk into an apple. She was vaguely aware of the sound of approaching footsteps, but she didn't look up until she heard them stop beside her, her eyes connecting with George's grinning face. "Did you hear?"

She smiled, nodding her head as she tossed the rest of her apple into the trashcan. "About Dr. Shepherd?"

With another nod, George's grin widened, his hands fidgeting in the pockets of his lab coat. "He's fine! I mean, well he's not _fine_, but you know, he's good. He's good and he's _going _to be fine. It's . . . it's like a miracle."

Behind the nurses' station, Alex scowled. "Dude, chill out."

Cristina nodded, crossing her legs against the desk as she leaned back in her chair. "Yeah, Bambi. It's not a _miracle_. It's science. It's _medicine_. Derek's going to be fine because he had kick-ass doctors and a hell of a lot of drugs."

Izzie rolled her eyes, scowling at Cristina and Alex as they stood to their feet, smirking at Izzie before walking down the hallway toward the cafeteria. "Don't listen to them. I get what you're saying."

She was smiling at George when Callie approached them, her face twisted in a wary expression as she folded her arms over her chest, her eyes darting between Izzie and George. "What's going on?"

George turned toward her, his smile growing. "Dr. Shepherd's awake," he announced, his excitement evident as his eyes widened. "He's got full mobility in his limbs _and _he doesn't seem to have any loss of brain function."

Callie grinned, some of the tension dissolving from her face. "That's great, George."

"Yeah." His eyes temporarily flickered to Izzie before settling back on his wife, his eyebrows rising. "Listen, we're about to go have lunch in Dr. Shepherd's room, but I'll see you later, okay?"

She nodded, leaning into him as he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. With a smile, she turned to leave, stopping only when she heard Izzie's voice. "Callie, wait a second."

Callie turned around, her face guarded as her eyes connected with Izzie's. "What?"

Izzie swallowed, looking briefly at George before offering Callie a timid smile. "You should come. To lunch, I mean. We're just grabbing some sandwiches from the cafeteria, but . . . well, you should come if you want to."

The gesture caught Callie off guard, her eyes narrowing as she studied Izzie's sincerity. It was the last thing she'd expected, but she smiled, seeing a kindness in Izzie's eyes that she had never noticed before. "Um, I can't. I have a bone graft in half an hour. But, uh, thanks; maybe another time."

Izzie nodded, turning hesitantly to George as Callie walked away. His was grinning proudly, his head tilted to the side as he scrutinized her expression. "Wow, that was, that was actually _nice_. I mean, wow. Thank you."

She shrugged, thrusting her hands in her pockets as they began walking toward the elevator. "It's not a big deal."

Shaking he head, he grabbed her wrist, stopping them in the middle of the hall. "No it is. It's a very big-" He paused, narrowing his eyes as a small smirk formed on his lips. "_Izzie Stevens_, did you know that Callie had a bone graft scheduled?"

Again she shrugged, the ends of her lips curling upward. "Maybe"

Laughing, George shook his head, moving toward the elevator. "You're unbelievable."

She giggled, moving quickly to catch up with him. "Hey, I'm making an effort here. I mean, if I'm going to try to be friends with my ex-lover's ex-estranged wife, I have to start somewhere."

XXXXXX

Meredith ran a cool washcloth along Derek's forehead, being careful of the bandages that were still wrapped tightly around his scalp as their eyes connected. She smiled at him, running the back of her hand lightly down his cheek. "Hey."

He returned her smile, inclininghis face toward her touch as his eyes closed once again. A contented sigh escaped her mouth as she gave in to her desire, leaning towards him and placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

The embrace was short-lived, Meredith pulling away quickly when the door of the room opened, her eyes wide as she turned toward the threshold. In the doorway stood two female forms of Derek, their mouths parted as they rushed into the room.

"Oh my god, you look horrible!" It was said by his sister, the kind of comment that only a sibling could get away with. "God, Derek, what the hell were you thinking? You almost gave Mom a _heart attack_!"

Derek's mother scowled at her daughter, shaking her head irritably. "Katie, _stop _it." She turned to Derek, her expression soft as she placed her palm against his forehead, gazing lovingly at her son in a way that Meredith had always wished her mother would've looked at her.

The room suddenly felt claustrophobic, causing Meredith to step backwards in an effort to not intrude on their personal moment. "I'm sure you two want some time alone with him."

Derek's mom suddenly looked up, her head tilted to the side as though she were noticing Meredith for the first time. Meredith swallowed nervously, her eyes flickering to the door before settling back on Derek's family. "So, um, I guess I'll just come back later."

But Derek's mom shook her head, walking around the bed until she was standing directly in front of her, their eyes connecting as a sober expression came upon her face. "You must be Meredith."

The simple statement made her cringe as though there was an underlying meaning to the words, as though what Derek's mother had really meant to say was, _You must be the slutty intern who ruined my son's marriage_. Meredith's mouth fell open, her heart anxiously drumming against her chest. "Um, yes I am."

And then Derek's mother completely caught her off guard, wrapping her arms around Meredith's shoulders as tears filled her eyes. "Thank you for taking care of my son, Meredith."

The words caused her heart to flutter, her eyes closing as she exhaled slowly, leaning into the older woman's embrace. "He took care of me first."

XXXXXX

For days, Lexie had felt like she should do something to help; she felt like maybe she should bring Meredith something to eat or a book to read while she sat by Derek's bed, or maybe even keep her company so that she didn't have to sit alone for hours on end. Because those are just the kind of things that family members do for each other, and in the end, she and Meredith _were _family, no matter how much Meredith wanted to deny it. And well, the thing was, Lexie got the distinct impression that her sister could really use a little family right now.

She stopped in the middle of the middle of the hallway on her way back to the clinic, a hesitant look on her face as she watched Cristina walk toward Derek's room. She took a cautious step toward her, her face guarded. "How is he? Has there been any change?"

Cristina surprised her, nodding her head as she sighed impatiently. "Yeah, he woke up this afternoon."

Lexie's face sharpened at the unexpected reply, her eyes wide as her mouth fell open. "Wait, what?" A smile played on the corners of her lips, her eyes shifting between Cristina and the door. "Dr. Shepherd woke up? And . . . and he's okay?"

Cristina pursed her lips, her eyes studying the intern. She couldn't help but think that Lexie didn't look any older than a child, that her face still remained free of the worry lines that only came with the trials and tribulations of being an adult. She wondered if that's how Meredith would look if she'd had a different childhood, if perhaps she would've been anything like Lexie Grey if Thatcher had chosen to take her with him instead of abandoning her for the chance to have a new family. With a sigh, she realized she was glad that she would never have to find out.

Folding her arms folding across her chest, she pursed her lips, giving Lexie an exasperated stare as if to say she really didn't have time for her bright and shiny antics. "He seems to be."

Lexie didn't notice Cristina's irritation, or if she did, she chose to ignore it. "That's great. That's really, really great." She blew out a breath, a smile forming on her lips. "And what about Meredith? Is she alright? Does she . . . I mean do you think she needs anything?"

Cristina sighed impatiently, a witty reply ready on her tongue, but the sincerity of Lexie's concern caused her to pause. "Um, Meredith's fine. She's in there right now."

Lexie nodded, smiling brightly. "That's good. I mean, it's good that she's with him. And that he's okay, of course."

"Yeah," Cristina said, pressing her lips together. She really didn't understand her; she didn't understand what made Lexie continue to pursue a relationship with a woman who was so insistent on having nothing to do with her. But in the end, Cristina realized that it didn't matter whether she understood Lexie or not. In the end, all that mattered was that Lexie was trying, that she wanted to be there for Meredith in a way that Cristina sometimes couldn't. "Look, we're, uh, we're having lunch in Derek's room. You should come; you can see Meredith for yourself."

Lexie looked at her skeptically, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. "Oh. I . . . well, I'm supposed to be in the pit, so-"

Cristina rolled her eyes. "Look, Three, I'm your _resident_." She frowned, placing a hand on her hip impatiently. "I give the assignments. If I tell you to go into Derek's room, you go. Are we _clear_?"

Lexie nodded, smiling slightly. "Yeah, we're clear." For a moment, Cristina was worried that Lexie was going to hug her, or at least offer her some other equally disdainful mode of affection, but Lexie just laughed, the cheerful sound escaping her lips as she turned toward Derek's room. "Thank you, Dr. Yang."

Sighing, Cristina shrugged. "Whatever," she muttered, following Lexie through the doorway.

XXXXXX

Izzie was walking with George, her hand reaching for the knob of Derek's hospital room, when she felt warm fingers wrapping around her wrist, a strong hand tugging gently on her arm. She turned quickly, her heart fluttering in her chest when she came face to face with Mark, the smile on his lips causing his eyes to crinkle at the edges. "Hi."

She grinned, watching George frown before disappearing into Derek's room from the corner of her vision. Turning back to Mark, she pursed her lips, giving him her full attention. "Hi."

For a moment, she thought that he was going to kiss her, that he was going to ignore the passing nurses and orderlies, giving in to his lust that was obvious by the way his eyes lingered on her mouth for a second too long. But instead, he dropped her wrist, smirking at the way she unconsciously leaned towards him. "So I've been thinking."

She lifted her eyebrows, her grin playful. "Well that's certainly new."

He scowled at her teasingly, shaking his head. "Fine, I won't tell you what I've been thinking."

Rolling her eyes, she crossed her arms over her chest, a sigh escaping her lips as she offered him a smile. "Okay, what?"

He chuckled, taking a step closer to her, enjoying that way his proximity caused her breath to hitch in the back of her throat. "I've been thinking that we should get dinner. You know, together."

"Dinner?"

He shrugged, tilting his head to the side. "Or whatever. We can do coffee." His smile widening, he took another step forward, his hand subtly grazing her hip. "I once had this pain-in-the-ass intern give me directions to the coffee cart, so I could probably round us up a couple of cappuccinos."

She rolled her eyes again, biting her lip gently as though she was contemplating his offer. "Wow, Mark. That sounds like a dream come true."

He laughed, running his fingers gently over the back of her hand. "The point is, I think we should go on a date. You know, _outside_ of the on-call room." He reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I know we're doing this kind of backwards, but I thought that, since we're seeing each other naked on a pretty regular basis, we should probably get to know each other better. There actually _is _more to me than my astounding sexual skills."

She giggled, Mark's smile seemingly contagious. "That's funny, I was going to say the same thing."

With a laugh, he grabbed her hand, tugging her toward Derek's room. "So how about Saturday?"

Shrugging, Izzie placed her hand on the knob, grinning playfully at Mark before opening the door. "I'll see if I can fit you in."

XXXXXX

It was strange to think that just days before, Meredith had been willing to let Derek date other women, that she'd been willing to settle for quick bouts of dirty sex in the linen closet when he'd been so willing to offer her his heart. As she sat on the edge of his bed, her fingers wrapped loosely over his hand as her eyes connected with his, her fear of commitment seemed like it had existed a lifetime ago.

She could tell by his drooping eyes that he was worn out, that the roomful of visitors had exhausted him. Her thumb was tracing light circles on his palm as she studied the way his chest rose and fell without the aid of a ventilator, her smile unsteady as she watched him struggle to keep his eyes open. She sighed, her breath coming out unevenly as a thin film of tears filled her eyes. "You scared me, you know."

Derek's eyes cracked open, meeting hers as he shifted his hand to intertwine their fingers. "Sorry."

She nodded, her mouth suddenly going dry. For the past few days, all Meredith had been able to think about were the thousands of things that she wanted to say to him, the thousands of things that had somehow been left unspoken. Poignant words and meaningful promises had floated around her mind, clawing at her consciousness for a chance to escape. And now he was awake, looking at her questioningly with tired, hooded eyes as though he was expecting her to say the perfect thing.

But at some point, without her even being aware, all of those perfectly poignant words and promises had disappeared, fleeing her subconscious during the chaos of the previous hours. So instead, she just smiled, her lips curling at the edges as she gently squeezed his fingers with hers, and she repeated the soft romantic euphony that continued to play in her mind like some sort of divine broken record. "I love you, Derek."

And he grinned, smiling a real smile that reached all the way to his eyes, like her words were what he'd been waiting for her to say all along.

XXXXXX

**So you know how this is the last chapter? Well it **_**kind **_**of isn't. I want to do an epilogue if anyone's interested. It's all planned out in my mind, so I think I could have it up in a couple of days. Maybe by Thursday to make up for the fact that there isn't a new Grey's. But if you feel satisfied with this ending, well, that's alright with me. I wouldn't mind it ending here ;-)**


	6. Epilogue

**Okay, so this is seriously the end. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. You guys are wonderful! I hope that you enjoy this :)**

XXXXXX

_**Six months later**_

Derek Shepherd was really getting on her nerves. Like, really, _really_ getting under her skin. But not in the way that he used to get on her nerves by making fun of her snoring or by forgetting to shave in the morning. No, at that moment, he was getting on her nerves because he was so freaking perfect.

She scowled as she studied him, his body stretched horizontally at the end of the bed in his typical early morning position, the _New York Times_ clutched between his fingers as his eyes scanned the pages. His hair was already staggeringly flawless at six o'clock in the morning, almost as though he woke up and each strand knew to instantly shift into position. His brow was furrowed at he read the front page of the newspaper, the tiny creases on his forehead only adding to the rugged, intelligent look he already possessed. And the most irritating thing of all was that every few minutes he would look up at her, his eyes meeting hers as he offered her a quick, sexy smile that practically screamed, _I am Derek Shepherd and I am perfect!_

And normally that wouldn't be a problem, of course, except that she, Meredith Grey, was so_ not_ perfect, and her lack of perfection was currently making her feel rather inadequate. Not that Derek was making her feel that way on purpose. No, as a rule of his perfection, he did everything in his power to make her feel loved, trying to put the tiny sections of her broken heart back together one piece at a time, like some kind of superhero for lost souls.

And the thing was that, sometime in the previous six months, as she watched Derek struggle to heal, as she watched him fight to return to his normal self, her soul _had_ mended, each tiny fraction of her broken heart fitting neatly back together in the center of her chest cavity. Or at least that's how she pictured it when she reflected on the fact that she was now ready to leave behind the scared little girl with abandonment issues, when she thought about how she was _finally_ ready to make a commitment to the man she loved.

It was difficult for Meredith to forget that she'd come strikingly close to losing Derek in the worst way possible. The cues were unremitting, popping up with suffocating frequency. She remembered her near-loss every time she encountered a head trauma victim at Seattle Grace, every time Derek suffered through a particularly difficult session of physical therapy, and even every time she simply ran her fingers through his hair, encountering the subtle groove in his scalp where Dr. Webber's scalpel had left a permanent scar. The reminders were everywhere, like an everlasting memento of the worst moments of her life.

But she was grateful for these reminders. They kept her sane, they kept her grounded, and most importantly, they helped her to realize that a life without Derek was worth decidedly less than a life _with_ Derek. And it was those reminders that forced her to realize that she didn't want to go one more day without telling him that she was ready, that she finally prepared to make a commitment.

This, of course, brought her back to her lack of perfection because, after all, she _was_ adult enough to know that this was _big_, that her recognition of her newfound need for permanency in their relationship was a monumental realization. It was so big, in fact, that it deserved a speech, that it warranted a beautiful, insightful, articulately delivered homily that would roll off her tongue with grace and eloquence.

And if she were Derek, she would be able to do that. Because Derek Shepherd was perfect. But she was Meredith Grey, the imperfect, recently rehabilitated commitment-phobe who currently seemed to be suffering from a horrible bout of verbal constipation.

She wanted to blame her current communication problem on Ellis and Thatcher because, in the end, most of her issues _did_ seem to stem from their less than stellar parenting skills, but Ellis was lost somewhere down the pipes of Seattle Grace Hospital and Thatcher was undoubtedly downing a bottle of scotch at some nameless bar, mourning the loss of her fake mom. But Derek? Well, he was right _here_, lying directly in front of her in all of his freakishly prefect glory, and at that moment it just seemed easier to blame it all on him.

Her eyes suddenly focused when she noticed him staring at her, a gentle smile playing on his lips as her eyes shifted to meet his. She frowned, her forehead wrinkling as she lifted her brow impatiently. "_What_?"

He shrugged, the corners of his mouth turning downward as he watched her with a concerned expression. "You okay? You seem lost in your own world."

She pursed her lips, trying to act nonchalant as she averted her eyes from his, looking down at the nearly empty crossword puzzle resting limply against her lap. "Um, I'm just thinking about this puzzle. I need – um – I need a nine letter synonym for temperamental."

He picked his head up, rubbing his chin as if he were deep in thought. "Hmm, maybe capricious?"

Once again, she glanced down at the crossword puzzle, her pen poised above the paper as she studied the empty boxes. "Nope, that's ten letters."

"Oh." He chewed on his lip, his eyes trained sightlessly on the hardwood floor beside the bed as a triumphant smile formed on his face. "Mercurial."

She counted the letters silently, frowning when she realized that he'd easily discovered the word her brain hadn't been able to produce in the last seven minutes. Because he was perfect and perfect people were smart. _Bastard. _"Um, yeah that works," she mumbled, hoping she sounded indifferent as she filled in the empty boxes on the paper. "Thanks."

She sighed irritably, watching him go back to his newspaper from the corner of her eye. She knew it wasn't _really _his fault that she couldn't seem to form the right words; he wasn't the one keeping her from figuring out how to say all of the foolishly romantic things that seemed to come so easily to other women. But that certainly didn't make the tiny scowl on her face disappear.

She pressed her lips firmly together, her brow furrowing as she wondered why she was making this so hard. All she just wanted to do was to tell him that she loved him with all of her heart, to tell him that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him and bear his children and live happily ever after. That couldn't be so difficult, right?

Nodding her head with determination, she placed her book of crossword puzzles back on the bed, turning her eyes to Derek's figure. "So, uh, you know that _thing_ you were talking about awhile ago? You know, the thing about us getting married and having kids or whatever?" She swallowed nervously, her gaze shifting to the comforter when he looked up at her with a surprised expression. "Well, I've been thinking about it and, um, I guess that would be okay to do. You know, if you still want to."

_Damn it_. That definitely wasn't the beautiful, insightful, articulately delivered homily she'd been hoping for.

A smile formed on his lips as he sat up, his eyes narrowed as he studied her expression. "Meredith Grey," he said, his tone teasing as he shifted towards her. "Are you proposing to me?"

She glanced up instantly, an aggravated look on her face as her eyes widened. "Of course not!" Sighing, she shook her head as his smile widened at her expense. She took a deep breath, trying to ease her increasing anxiety as she met his eyes. "No, I'm just _saying_ that if you want to get married, and you know, you actually _ask_ me, I might say yes. I mean, I'll probably say yes."

He smirked, his eyes twinkling as he nodded. "Oh, okay."

She huffed as he resumed his previous position, lying across the bed and bringing the newspaper in front of his face. She knew that he was enjoying this, that he was taking pleasure in watching her squirm. With a scowl, she shifted her gaze to the puzzle in front of her, her eyes staring sightlessly at the clues on the bottom of the page.

The silence stretched on, Meredith's discomfort growing as her eyes periodically lifted to find Derek lounging casually at the end of the bed, his face completely at ease as he turned the page of the _New York Times_. The fact that he looked so relaxed only served to increase her annoyance, and she had to fight the urge to hurl her book at his freakishly perfect hair. Sighing irritably, she sat up straighter, slamming her book of crossword puzzles against the bed and folding her arms over her chest. "Fine, I'm _proposing_, okay?" her shrill voice causing his eyebrows to rise.

He sat up once again, calmly placing his newspaper on the bed and staring at her with a smile. "You're proposing what exactly?"

Meredith tilted her head to the side, rolling her eyes as she looked at him pointedly. "Derek, seriously?"

He grinned, shrugging his shoulders. "I just want to make sure I'm not misunderstanding what you're saying."

She sighed, forcing herself to meet his eyes. "I'm asking you about the marriage thing. You know, if you want to get married or whatever."

Silence ensued, Derek looking at her expectantly with a wide grin on his face. "I haven't heard an actual question."

His teasing tone didn't escape her notice as she pursed her lips, shaking her head lightly as she smiled. Rolling her eyes, she sighed. "God, you're such a pain in the ass," she muttered, chuckling when her gaze met his. "_Fine_, will you marry me or not?"

A hearty laugh escaped his mouth, Derek crawling up the bed until his body was slithering over hers, his fingers delving into her hair as he captured her lips in a quick kiss. "Wow, that was romantic," he whispered, his cheeks dimpling as he smiled at her.

She rolled her eyes, hitting his arm playfully. "Shut up, Derek. Just answer the question."

He laughed again, his eyes connecting with hers as his face grew serious. "I'd love to marry you, Meredith Grey."

A relieved smile formed on her lips, her heart fluttering in her chest as she leaned forward, pressing her mouth against his as he settled between her thighs. She moaned against his lips, her arms snaking around his body, sliding beneath his shirt so that her palms could connect with his warm back.

And then the door opened behind them, a squeak emitting from Izzie's throat as she caught them in their compromising position. "Oops, sorry," she rushed to say, smiling sheepishly as she continued to walk through the threshold.

Mark smirked as he followed Izzie into the room, a plate of muffins balanced on one of his hands as his eyes landed on the couple stretched across the bed. "Well isn't this cozy."

Derek rolled his eyes, sighing loudly as he twisted his head to look toward the doorway. "What do you guys want?"

Mark's grin widened, his hand outstretching as he displayed the plate of muffins. "It's your first day back to work, buddy. We made you breakfast."

Derek lifted a skeptical eyebrow, rolling off of Meredith and placing his hands behind his head, his eyes roaming between Izzie and Mark who stood smiling at the end of the bed. "'We?'"

Mark shrugged his shoulders, wrapping his free arm around Izzie's waist and pulling her towards him so quickly that she yelped in surprise. "_Izzie_ made the muffins; I talked dirty to her while she stirred and preheated and all that. She's sexy as hell when she bakes."

Izzie rolled her eyes, elbowing him playfully as she unconsciously leaned her face toward him as he nuzzled the side of her neck. "We thought that you should have a good breakfast before your first day back, so we-"

Derek held up his hand. "Excuse me, I really appreciate the muffins, but we were kind of in the middle of something here. Do you think you guys could come back later?"

But instead of Izzie and Mark backing quietly out of the doorway like Derek had been hoping for, they were joined by Alex, who walked through the threshold seconds later, his eyes focused on the plate of muffins as a hungry expression covered his features.

Izzie stepped in front of him, blocking the plate as she rested her hands firmly on her hips, a look of warning appearing on her face. "Those aren't for you."

Alex rolled his eyes, sighing loudly. "Oh come on, Iz, he's not going to eat _all _of them," he pointed out dryly, turning to meet Derek's stare. "Dude, are you seriously going to eat _twelve_ muffins?"

With a grin on his face, Derek ignored Alex's question, rolling over to face Meredith until his nose was mere inches from hers. "Do you think they'd notice if we just went ahead and had sex anyway?"

Meredith giggled, her eyes never leaving Derek's. "Probably."

"Hmmm." Derek frowned, looking fleetingly towards the end of the bed. "Um, hey, I'm trying to have sex with my fiancée here. You better get out now or you're going to be in for quite a show."

Looks of astonishment instantly covered their faces, their jaws dropping in surprise. Alex smirked, ignoring the girlish squeal emitting from Izzie's lips as he looked pointedly at Derek. "Dude, you got her to agree to marry you? How the hell did you do _that_?"

"Oh my _god_! This is so exciting!" Izzie exclaimed, pushing passed Alex and Mark as she rushed toward the bed, plopping herself down beside Derek. "Was it romantic?"

Meredith looked sheepishly at Derek, her lips turning downward. "Not particularly," she mumbled, her expression almost apologetic.

Derek just smiled. "I thought it was perfect."

Returning his smile, Meredith's cheeks flushed as she shifted her gaze to Izzie. "Don't say anything to Cristina. I have to be the one to tell her."

Izzie scowled, shaking her head. "Yeah, yeah. She's your person. Whatever." She dismissed the comment, a grin appearing on her face as she eyed Meredith's hand. "Let me see the ring!"

Derek laughed, turning to Meredith with teasing eyes. "Yeah, where _is_ my ring? A proposal's not a proposal without a ring."

And at that, Meredith just rolled her eyes. Because really, it was the _perfect_ thing for him to say. "You know what? I really love you, Derek," she told him, her smile bright as she entwined her fingers with his. "Even if you are obnoxiously perfect."

He laughed, shrugging his shoulders. "You know, I think I should have _near-death whatevers_ more often."

She scowled, shaking her head. "Let's not get carried away."


End file.
